


The Meeting

by humhumhum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Dubious Consent, Light Masochism, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Omega Derek Hale, Slow Burn, Taboo Breaking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humhumhum/pseuds/humhumhum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both are drenched and cold, but Stiles is not capable of feeling uncomfortable at the moment. He just looks at Derek, while the motor purrs underneath them, takes him in. Derek has changed; changed like a hot, burning summer coming suddenly after months of hazy spring. The pretty but hesitant lines of his face, his body are now inked in by deft hands, he is sharply, terrifyingly, undeniably beautiful. Stiles tries to will his eyes away, but he finds out quickly that he cannot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

-Derek!

Stiles greets him with a surprised tone; the boy grows nearly a foot over a month. He looks…well…more like a machine than a teenager. An android with a shit-list and the muscles of death. Well, fortunate for Stiles, he knows him better than that; despite the doomy brows, cultish leather jackets and brand new pecs Derek is a harmless kid. He is a moody Marvin at his worst, travelling the galaxy with bunch of idiots. For an awkward moment, they just stand there. Stiles finally recovers;

-Don’t stand there man, come on in.

When Derek continues to stare, Stiles drops the words and ushers the young boy inside of his small office, fingers not quiet touching but hovering over his shoulders. Derek, uncharacteristically slow steps in, he is a little bit pale, sick or tired maybe?

Stiles walks around the wooden desk, the most prized item in the room after the comfy chairs.

-How are you doing? He asks, once Derek seated across him. How was the New York? Give me all the juicy details, I am dying to hear about the reception.

Emerald eyes find him with a brand new intensity. Stiles notes the restless, dark tone for later inquiry.

-It was nice. Laura wore blue. 

Stiles smiles at the answer;

-That’s nice. 

He examines his oldest patient with an odd feeling, Derek is shy of seventeen now, doing better especially recently. His outbursts are few and far between, and the aggressive behavior towards Alphas seems to be continued in a more tolerable level.

Stiles realizes suddenly that they are staring at each other, he clears his throat;

-Maybe we can talk about your impressions about the ceremony? It was your first time, right? 

Derek looks at him blankly, like he is in another world, like he is asking in bewilderment; ‘‘Why the fuck are you even talking?’’

Stiles feels uneasy, hackles rising, and it is fucking weird. Normally he is a softy, good with kids, he tolerates snorts, wails, claws, and even kicks like a champ. He never feels wired, especially around Derek, they closely know each other, they meet twice a week, working on issues, sometimes Derek talking, mostly Stiles doing the job. They are good, solid, there is absolutely no need for this strange feeling. 

Stiles forces himself to continue, swallowing down the feeling; 

-How does it feel to witness a bond? Some says it is overwhelming, I know that a lot of people think it is terrifying, or something like a religious experience, divine.

Derek smirks;

-It is definitely not divine with Laura. 

Stiles, annoyed even more, watches that patented smirk, it means Derek is not in a good mood, on the other hand, he uses those only for the inner circle, strangers usually gets head bashing. 

When he advised that Derek should attend the ceremony, he hoped the new, positive memories can be helpful to replace the bad ones. Yet, here we are he thinks looking at Derek, who tracks his every movement adamantly, and Stiles can admit that it is a little bit terrifying watched by those sharp, silent eyes. Maybe it was a mistake; sending Derek somewhere unfamiliar, he clearly witnessed something extremely intense. Maybe he rushed him, despite the signs that saying he is ready it is always possible that the anxiety can overcome the positive outcomes.

-Okay. Do you have anything to tell me? Anything that caught your attention? I’m guessing there were Alphas attending the ceremony? 

He cringes internally when he sees Derek’s face getting thunderous with the mention of the Alphas.

-No.

The answer reminds him of their earlier encounters, when everything consists of ‘‘no’s’’, and occasionally ‘‘that is not your damn business’es’’ even a spiteful ‘‘fuck you’’ that one time when he asked about Paige. 

-Okay, but…

Derek fucking roars, flashing his eyes like he is a nasty lighthouse in the middle of the sea warning a little boat for not getting any more closer;

-I said stop talking about other Alphas!

God, what is wrong with him? He knows better than to antagonize Derek. Is it too late to offer some Reese’s? Stiles throws a tiny little glance at Derek, fuck, even Derek’s nostrils seem angry. He looks like a little dragon, ready for destroying a whole village with one breath. 

Great, now Stiles probably has to sit for half an hour silently. He fidgets in his seat, playing a pen, capping and uncapping, waiting for the clock strikes six. He knows better than to expect more from this kind of sessions. Whether they maintain a functioning conversation or not, they both know that leaving the office before the time is out of the question. But dude, does he want it. He feels strangely trapped in his own office. He resists for a minute before his eyes drifting over, Derek’s gaze finally focused somewhere else other than him. He is looking at the bunny patterned small pillow resting over the light blue chair.

-It smells like cubs.

-Oh? Stiles says with total bafflement. Does it disturb you? I sent it to the cleaner last weekend. 

He takes a whiff, and smells nothing but Derek’s sweet odor.

-I can’t smell anything. But everyone knows that the smelling is not an Alpha’s forte, so if you want me to remove it…

-No. 

-Great. 

Derek continues to sit gravely, gazing the innocent pillow while Stiles observing him. After a minute or two Stiles is certain that there is something fishy here, but what he can’t quite put his finger on. Derek’s face is leaner now, sharp with a dark shadow of stubble. Oh, oh thinks Stiles, finally catching what is clearly visible and feeling like an idiot. That explains his own annoyance at least. Those inches Derek has gained are not simply the last attempts of a teenage body before taking the final shape of an adult. They are the beginning of something more complex. The adolescent innocence finally begins to disappear from Omega’s lines, promising something beautiful, something ravishing in the way. When he knows what he searches for, all signs are there; Derek’s thighs are definitely more muscular now, preparing themselves for hard work, chest broaden, hair seems darker than his normal tone, even that is practically impossible since his normal color is raven black. He has always been a beautiful boy, Stiles thinks fondly, and he will be even more beautiful in his heat it seems.

He has to approach the issue carefully, knowing Derek it won’t be a picnic, acknowledging what is about to come. Warming Derek to the idea definitely will take some time, and Stiles is not so sure there is enough time for a proper preparation. Derek is bulked up perfectly, he has never been a scrawny kid like Stiles himself, but this, this is an open invitation, with fancy writing and glittering and all that shit.

Stiles sighs silently, there is no way this goes well; finding a proper heat-mate is one thing, convincing Derek to not beheading the said mate is definitely another. Well, there is still time for figuring something out together. What is important is, after two years of therapy, they manage it. They beat the grieving; they beat the betrayal and trust issues. This is an open sign of progress, maybe not the last stop of the final destination; living a happy, fulfilled life with or without company, but it is perfect for now. 

His thoughts are interrupted with Derek’s voice, which actually has slightly changed; it sounds mature, fitting beautifully his new body.

-Can you give me some water? 

He scrambles to his feet without even think;

-I… Yes, of course.

It is ridiculous how he practically runs; filling a wooden cup with water, which Derek himself can do it damn easily, since the cups and demijohn are closer to him.

His back chills with suspicion, Derek asks for nothing, he thinks, suddenly filled with a gut feeling that there is something seriously wrong here. He offers the cup tensely; their eyes meet when Derek reaches for it, and a split second before he acts Stiles figures what is going on. He observes with a cold panic how Derek’s body preparing itself for striking like a viper, despite the blankness of his face, how the gears shifting. Stiles wonders for a second if Derek grows taller because he instinctually knows that reaching Stiles will be easier like that. He wants to laugh, and cry, but can’t do anything, he can’t even make a step towards the door. 

While he knows what is about to happen, he never fully believes that Derek can actually do it. He is a little troubled kid, but kind nevertheless, he just can’t attempt an act this bold, can he? The teeth in his neck come as a painful shock, answering his question while piercing the meat brutally. Then, he fucking cries with all he can, voice captured by the sound-proof walls designed for ultimate privacy. Stiles struggles, despite his training tells him absolutely not to do so. 

Derek’s hands grip him with distress, pressing like a vice; it is a matter of life or death now. Stiles’ claws elongated, he is trying to get free madly, scrambling in a mindless panic. 

Derek’s teeth sink deeper as an answer, Stiles tries to get him off which is only resulted with both of them falling down, Derek’s jaw not even relaxed in a millimeter all the while, they are wrestling on the carpet and that is what brings back Stiles. 

He immediately stills, the vicious growling of Derek stops gradually. Stiles closes his eyes for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. What to do now? His cell is in the pocket of his jacket, draped over the coat hanger, definitely not within reach. Well that is okay, that is normal, what is not okay is the panic button that he left at the drawer of his desk. His usual patients is eleven years old kids, cuddling bunny pillows as the replacement of future Alphas or Omegas, that can not overpower him in any situation. He gets fucking careless, and this is the bitter result. It dawns on him that this probably will be the main reason of his long and hard sentence if Talia choses the court instead of murdering him right away. 

God, he will lose his job, that’s for sure, nobody with a right mind gives a job to a heat mentor working with children, that bonds with one of them. 

He shakily reaches for Derek’s shoulders, trying to say something but can’t quite manage it because of the teeth. It comes as a gurgling sound, he feels the blood trickling down, dripping into the carpet. He prays for someone doing better job than him, realize that it is already passing six, come for checking on them before closing. 

Minutes pass slowly while they are chest to chest, heaving with hard breathes. Stiles’ body feels like floating, he has to make a decision soon, if he doesn’t want to die on Derek because of blood lose. He can overpower Derek, whether he is good at being one or not, he is still an Alpha, and has actually spared power to do so. The problem lies in opening the Omega’s jaw; he knows that he has to break Derek’s jaw, and perhaps some of his teeth. What is dreading him more is the possibility of Derek refusing to let go even then. If it comes to that there is a slight chance that Stiles can maul him to death.

He blows everything, shit, he is so fucked up, he knows that he is not enough for helping Derek, he should have rejected Talia’s request when he first met them, he should have sent them someone more capable, a mentor specialized on adults maybe. But Derek was not, is not an adult. He was fifteen then, and a child where it counts. 

He realizes he is drifting, and it is dangerous to do so. Derek is still in bonding trance; his mind operates in a more primitive level, pushing back other thoughts that can interrupt the vital process. It is only acceptance or rejection for him, there is no pain, no fear or shame for now. 

Stiles hopes that he is not in a deep level, if Derek can’t catch the signs, Stiles will be dead in an hour, his wound fucking gushing, and this for sure will be a damn disaster for Derek’s mental health; killing the idiot of an Alpha he chooses in the process of mating.

He can do this, Derek is younger, more open to manipulation, Stiles will cheat only a little, sending signals that he accepts the invitation but not really doing so. The tricky thing is there is always a possibility of lapsing, giving the control to the wolf. Fuck. It is risky. He doesn’t know if his wolf will be that much of considerate towards the boy. If he decides that the Omega is worthless as a mate, he can hurt him. It is fucking clear for the wolf; Derek is not a child for him, definitely not a patient, he is an Omega that bite where Stiles is the most vulnerable. 

His fingers are fucking icy, and shaking wildly, when he begins to caress Derek. He is wheezing wetly, throat working repeatedly, trying to swallow the blood filling his mouth. Please, be there, he prays desperately, please feel this or we will both be fucked. He touches Derek’s neck; it feels like burning coals under his fingertips. Derek’s hair has dampened by sweat, legs rigid between his legs. 

He tries to call Derek’s name. He touches him as much as he can in this position. Derek’s clinging him like an octopus, not even stirred a bit. It takes a minute or more that Stiles notices that the touching is only working for aggravating the situation more. Derek begins to buzz like an angry wasp, it sounds tragically funny. Stiles stops, trying to think for a different approach. 

He relaxes, considering his whole body suffocating under pounds of muscle he is doing a damn good job at that. He tries to tilt his neck like he is encouraging the bite, yeah bite me he thinks, bite me with those fucking fangs. Unfortunately Derek is not persuaded even a bit, the throaty growling follows immediately, vibrating the wound painfully.

You are literally killing your Alpha here! Stiles tries to say, what sounds more like an off-key whizzing. 

Stiles is thirty. Fucking thirty! His friends are happily married or even more happily divorced. How the fuck is this happened? How he manages to not see this coming? He is a heat mentor. He is a heat whisperer; he gains his life with calling oblivious pups’ heats 7/24. He has only his job; he is overworking, stressing, neglecting his father and his friends for his patients, and now he blows that too. God, those old shits will happily revoke his license, saying a single heat-mentor is and will always be a trouble, fucking perverts. Not possessing any power left to be frustrated properly, he breathes weakly. 

I will mate you, okay, Derek, listen to my voice; see if I’m lying? You are clearly the brighter one here. No more playing. I will mate the shit out of you. You are hurting me man. Come on, just loosen those fangs a little bit. Stiles says, whether Derek understands his tirade or not.

He raises his left hand, it looks strangely crimson, he blinks, yes, it definitely looks like stained. He continues to stare his shaky hand, totally puzzled by the color and finally realizes that it is because he hurts Derek, his hand looking almost black because it is covered with 17 years olds’ dried blood. His eyes filled with tears and Stiles, like an adult he is, begins to cry, knowing he will be black out soon and that will be the end of his miserable life. God what will his father think? His pack obviously can survive without him but his father? 

Whether the idea of the approaching death or hurting Derek, or the both, he does the last thing he must do, he slips, giving control to the wolf. And they are growling now wildly, impossibly pissed off, they are hurt, wounded. They clawed the assailant, until the fangs finally release them. They are hurt so badly, they will gauge its eyes, they will kill it. 

There is a roaring sound, and an utter submission. Stiles slips in and out, his memories waking, he smells melting butter on a slice of fresh bread, mother giving it with warm, flowery hands. There is rain and muddy gardens, a race and furry joy. He is eating a peach, wet, dripping, syrupy between his legs. Every breath blazing, like a burning candy drenching in absinthe, so green, glowing immature, fresh, hot, like the eyes of the Omega. He is drunk, wandering in the streets, under the cold, shiny stars of a winter night. He is chilled, searching for fire. There is smoke, and the first sparks of the fire, flowing high in the air, like fireflies, crackling. It’s the happiness of the cicada, before the winter, singing for his throne living only for a month, for his mate waiting for him deep in the forest. It’s the meeting. It is coppery, wet, bird-like. And he takes it, desperately gentle for not crashing it, but vicious in his own way.

He fades slowly; returns back to his skin, finally taking the scene in front of him, he has bitten Derek, and there is blood everywhere. In his mouth, his face, his collar. His eyes find Derek’s eyes, they are looking incredibly innocent and large in his young face. Stiles tries to say something, something stupid like ‘sorry’ but the black spots are growing quickly, filling his world and leaving no time for sincere apologies muttered guiltily.


	2. Chapter 2

There is a harsh light, and some distant beeping coming from somewhere near, for a second he stares the white, lifeless ceiling utterly confused, aching, but why? Then he remembers. His heart suddenly stops while the pain flows.

-Stiles?

Warm, soothing fingers find his own. 

-Stiles, shhh, it’s okay son, you are okay.

-Dad…

The voice echoes in his own ears weakly.

-Hey kiddo. Careful with the neck okay, doctor said it should take some time to completely heal. 

-Dad, I swear I didn’t…

John squeezes his hand reassuringly;

-Stiles, I know, okay. You are my kid, I know you didn’t.

He tries to move, unsuccessfully, his whole body feels rigid, a ghostly pain wandering over. 

-I just… 

Stiles blinks back tears before he continues.

-Is he okay?

He has no right to ask that, not anymore, but he asks anyway, burning to hear the answer.

-He is okay, Alpha Hale took him home a while ago, don’t worry about it, just try to heal. 

The words are clear, economic, but there is a tell in his father’s face, a wrinkle in the corners. Stiles reads it loud and clear; he hurt Derek, he hurt him bad. 

-Dad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, dad.

John closes his eyes for a second;

-I know, Stiles, I know. 

Stiles begins to cry with his whole body, the bed under him shakes with it, John’s desperate voice disappears in the background, till the nurses come, and then they cut him off.

…

It’s his third day in the hospital. He is lying there like an old, heavily sedated, morose potato, since John left for work early in the morning. When the door opens he thinks it is Scott, smiling a little bit despite himself. Unfortunately his least favorite nurse enters in, followed closely by a sly looking, middle-aged man with a leather briefcase. 

-Mr. Stilinski, the scarlet-head says with an ice like voice, you have a visitor. 

The man shakes his head dismissing her and when she finally leaves, a fake smile blossoms in his face;

-Mr. Stilinski, how nice to see you here.

-Who the hell are you?

-Mind the language. 

He holds out a card, dangerously close to bump Stiles’ nose. Its creamy, expensive face shows a typical scales of justice and under the icon it reads with bold letters; A. HARRIS. ATTORNEY AT LAW.

-I’m here in behalf of the Hale Pack. 

Harris successfully irritates him with his attitude in seconds.

-Well Mr. Harris, as you can see, I’m in hospital, trying to heal. Stiles said with an exaggerated eyebrow. I’m sure you can wait for my release or you can talk to my lawyer. 

-No, non of that Mr. Stilinski. You did enough damage already; I’m this close (he dramatically demonstrates an atomic length) to lock you up. If you can’t manage to hold your tongue I promise you a sentence that never ends. Do you understand me?

-Yes, unfortunately I do.

-Good. Now. You will sign these, he opens the briefcase and takes out a wad of paper, shaking threateningly, or you will be not only a jail-bird for a very long time but the personal rag doll of every pack here to Los Angeles. 

-If you don’t mind, Mr. Harris, my lawyer always says read before sign it. Though I’m suspicious that this will hold any legality since I’m drugged like a chicken in a factory.

-You don’t need to worry about that Mr. Stilinski, neither your state assigned lawyer. The Alpha of the kid you assaulted had prepared this document precisely for your kind beforehand. Do you want to live the rest of your pitiful life? Just sign it.

-My kind? Stiles narrows his eyes. 

-Leeches, Mr. Stilinski, the parasites, who has nothing in life; except their fangs. You really think you can have it all, because you bite the one wealthy, old-blood Omega? You will loose everything Mr. Stilinski, can’t you see? Your poor savings, your job, your nonexistent reputation, even your pack. However, you can still have your freedom if you sign this, Harris continues, missing knowingly the air around them is charging.

The door opens once more saving Stiles from adding one more assault to his case;

-Here you are, Mr. Harris, greets a familiar voice. 

-And who you are? Asks Harris with a sour tone while examining the Prada high heels, and matching bright lime Lanvin dress. 

-Lydia Martin, she passes her champagne card, smiling knowingly. This is your offer, if I correctly assume, she says, pulling the pages out of Stiles’ claws. We will make contact with you as soon as my client awakes enough to assess it.

-Look here Miss, your client here obviously have not the slightest chance…

-Mister Harris, please, I’m very well aware of the chances hold by my client, as you are; he was bitten by your client.

Harris scoffs. 

-My client is underage.

Stiles winces with the claim, while Lydia continues, not even fazed by the comment.

-Your client, who had only scratches in his body and revealed from hospital after only three hours, hurt Mr. Stilinski severely Mr. Harris and it is documented in detail.

-Lydia…

-Stiles please, it is clear that Mr. Harris misinformed about the situation in our hands. 

-I’m very well informed…

-We hold the exact time of the bite, Mr. Harris, considering the chemical reactions. Given the healing of the wounds we can safely safe that my client was attacked at least an hour ago before the mating process began.

-Your client here brainwashed his underage patient.

-Mr. Harris please, you are speculating. Anyway, we don’t think pressing charges of course at least for now since the mating, naturally, kicked in with mutual agreement. Now, if you allow us, there are things calling for our attention.

Harris sneers, eyes lightening up with a dog yellow;

-You don’t know what you are dealing here with, take the damn offer, or there will be consequences.

-We will contact you when we are ready Mr.Harris, Lydia answers with a sharp tone.

-You will do as I say, Harris says poisonously, if you don’t sign this now, you will face with a real blood Alpha, and if I were you, I would avoid that at all costs Mr. Stilinski, it won’t end well for someone quarterly like you. 

With blatant insult Stiles’ eyes flashes crimson;

-You fucking bastard… 

Lydia surges up like a little chihuahua; sharp teeth, manic eyes and all;

-Leave us, you packless, nameless, bondless, little dot. Or I will chew you up, just to show you what means being a full Beta. 

Harris unsurprisingly shrinks, moves towards the exit.

-You are throwing your only chance here Stilinski, and I will be delighted when you, and your dogs meet what you deserve, he says with ire before leaving the room, not saying another word to his colleague. 

The second the door closes Lydia sinks, despite the perfect make up her eyes seems puffy and red.

-Where were you?

-I came twice when you were sleeping but I was furious. I was afraid to strangle you if I saw you awake. 

There was a short silence cut by her fierce voice;

-How could you? How could you dare?

-I didn’t intend to.

She clenches her fists like she is split second away from punching the Alpha.

-I can bow… There are stable, good packs near, they would welcome you, cherish you. 

-You will hand over us like we are last summer’s dress?

-Lydia…

-No, damn you! I was sixteen, and I believed in you, I followed you.

-You didn’t follow me, you are…

-Don’t… Whatever you say, I am not your friend; I am your damn Beta. 

Stiles looks feverish, miserable, but Lydia is way too angry to correct her words.

-You can take over, you know, or Scott. 

-This is not Vancouver; our little democracy game won’t work outside of the Pack. There will be challenges, until some Alpha take over the control, and maybe kills us in the way. 

Stiles finally stops speaking, not knowing what to say.

-You accepted him, an underage, your patient Stiles. God, even if we can manage to evade the court, you destroyed your name for good. You had a bright career before you. You could have the damn hospital eventually, and now? What do we have? Did you even want him?

-Don’t…

Realizing that she is overstepping, Lydia stands fixing her wrinkled dress; her green, clever eyes are expressing something akin to mourning. 

-You didn’t told us about him, I never heard his name until you bit him.

-How could I? He was my patient.

-Did you feel anything? I’m trying to understand, connect the dots, but you never mention him, not even a hint, or a whisper we heard about him. It must be a surprise for you then, but how? How could that happen? No preparation before, no courting, no nothing…

-I couldn’t control it Lydia, I literally couldn’t control it. I thought I could dodge him, trick him into letting me go, but he was insistent. I didn’t even think that this could happen, the pack, everything… I tried but…

-You tried? You are thirty, not a teenager with control issues.

-Lydia… What do you expect me to say? He caught me defenseless, and I…

-You gave in. You knew the impact that would fall on us. You are selfless, no, don’t… Don’t interrupt me. You are my pack, I know you, you can give your life for us in a blink but you lapsed, how, how that could happen? You didn’t choose yourself over us, I know that, but how could you choose some stranger over your pack? Did you fall for him and sink into denial? 

-Lydia, he is barely seventeen. I didn’t think about him romantically before but I care about him, and I didn’t want to hurt him, but I could, if I tried to fight, I could shred him into pieces. 

-You could maim him, not kill him.

-His bite was mature, deep, done by intent. And I took it seriously.

Lydia’s beautiful eyes focus on him, like she is finally getting a clue about the missing piece;

-You considered him as a worthy candidate, even for a moment, you did.

Stiles looks pained.

-Beside the point.

-Stiles…

-No. I was the one who had seven years of experience under his belt, I got careless, I dropped my defense, and betrayed his trust. Don’t say it like it was an ordinary thing, like this mess I created can be considered as mutual. 

-You were both under the stress but it was mutual. You can bite all you want, if the other party is off the mark then there will be nothing and you know that. The bite is not working that way.

-I’m not saying he didn’t want it.

-Stiles, you are the professional one here, you know this can’t be simplified as wanting something; the amount of trust you both presented, it is insane. The only thing I don’t understand how we didn’t see this was coming? 

-Lydia, whatever you believe, I really don’t want to talk about it now, okay?

She silently draws the chair, sits down and begins to read the papers in her hand.

Stiles almost dozes off when she talks again;

-We can seal the deal, if you sign this. 

She motions the papers with one perfectly manicured finger. 

-What is it saying?

-You are accepting to give up your rights over the Hale pack and their money. They are not offering any compensation, it is basically a threat.

-No.

With a hair tossing, Lydia raises from the simple hospital chair, like a queen leaving her throne.

-Of course no. If you accept this, our pack will be destroyed. 

Stiles’ face pales visibly.

-They can’t touch us. We are doing good. You said we secured our assets.

Lydia smiles sourly;

-Well, I didn’t expect something like this to happen. A shit storm coming from Scott? I prepared for that. But from you? Four days ago I could laugh at the idea. Anyway, if the word spreads that Hales play with you like a puppet, than yes, they can annihilate everything that we establish. 

-Lydia, I…

-Don’t… I know you are sorry, but there is no place for excuses. You have to accept the situation we are in right now, you have to take everything, to the last dime, to the last piece of land, that you traditionally have the right. We have to show that there is nothing to be ashamed. 

-There is something that I ashamed, how can you say that? He is…

-He is seventeen, not invalid, and he chose you.

-He was not in a good place to make a choice.

-But he did anyway. Did you provoke him? Did you deceive him?

-No, of course not, what are you even saying?

-I’m saying that whether he did the right or the wrong thing, he did something by his will, and he chose you. And if you ask me, he did nothing wrong by choosing you, except ruining your life of course. Anyway, beside the existential crisis you are having now, are you certain that you understand the implications of your decision? If you reject their offering, they can lock you in a very disadvantaged position.

-They will say I am a gold-digger, I know and I think there is a possibility of going to jail, am I wrong? 

-They can press charges, but it will be futile since the first one who acted is Derek, and they know it. He proposed, you accepted, end of the story. Though, they probably can have the restraining order, banning you from go near to their properties, or Derek’s school for a while, trying to severe the bond.

Stiles’ heart throbs with pain;

-They can’t…

-It is untraditional but they can try. If they can persuade Derek, there is even a chance of success, with the aid of heavy chemicals of course.

-Lydia, they can’t. One of my patients, he was thirteen back then; it was his twin you know, his mate, the family trying for dissolving. God, Lydia. He was a ghost when he came to me, and after three years of therapy; there was no progress. I tried to trigger re-bonding, I tried everything I knew, but he already had the symptoms of dementia, his twin suffering from major depression, I don’t know if he can manage to recover, but my patient couldn’t control his bowels, couldn’t feel if he was hungry. They had to send him for a full-time care, and there was no alteration in his situation when I last saw him this spring. He was nineteen, still in hospital. 

Lydia holds his hand gently;

-Stiles, calm down. We will consult an expert. If that day comes, we can grant a stay of execution. For now, you try to heal while I handle your case. 

She sighs when the door knocked;

-Speaking of the cavalry…Hi, Scott. You are just in time. 

Scott hurriedly closes the door;

-I think they are onto something. 

-Who?

-Hales. I think we have to move you tonight. 

-Scott, please be more specific, okay? I don’t sleep well last night, Lydia says accusingly.

-The redhead was Peter Hale’s nurse, mom says so, back then when he was healing from the incident. She was talking to someone.

-Their pack lawyer, I assume. Did you hear anything they say?

-No.

Lydia gives a stinky eye;

-And?

-It’s a gut feeling okay? They are preparing for something.

-Peter is the left hand; Lydia says like she is talking to herself, things can actually get dirty. They already tried to catch Stiles when he was vulnerable. 

-What? Are you serious? They are trying to eliminate me?

-Well, if you had signed this, it would be understandable, since our pack would have robbed from its rights over the Hale pack after your death. Of course they have to prove that your death caused by natural factors, but I think that wouldn’t be that much of a problem. 

-Really? They really can do that? Scott asks.

-They have the most valuable property around here. Hales steadily take in Omegas and Betas with no pack for years. They must be extremely planned, to establish an order like that, or extremely lucky. Now, sharing all of that with us probably cost them millions. I think they exactly can try something like that. 

Stiles murmurs;

-Low blow.

-Dude, are you in shock? 

-Dude, you bet I am.

Lydia the only rational person in the room, takes the control finally. 

-Okay, I will go talk to Deaton for your release. If anything happens call me.

The shocked silence continues for a while after she leaves.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes... You have been warned dear reader :)


	3. Chapter 3

Melissa comes from kitchen, a bowl of chicken soup in one hand, a glass of water on the other. 

-I know that look.

-What look? I don’t know what you are talking about.

She carefully places the hot bowl on the small bedside table, sitting near the bed carefully.

-Stiles, there is nothing going wrong with the bond, I assure you, Derek is most probably healthier than you now, at least in spirit, she adds, heavily implying Stiles’ bad mood lately. 

-I’m okay, everything is okay.

Melissa, quietly takes his hand, stretching a little, examines whole arm with a displeased expression, causing a movement that flares unwanted pain, which Stiles emphasizes with a yelp;

-Ow! What the hell?

-Stiles, this is not okay, she says, while inspecting loosely healed skin around the bite mark. You are not healing properly. I’m doing everything in my capacity, but I’m not a miracle-worker. 

-We already know this is not about your mad skills; you are the best. It is… Something is not right, he says with a serious tone, I feel strange, and not in a good way.

-Can you describe it?  


Stiles takes a deep breath, Melissa recognizes the signs of distress usually coming with a confession of an ugly truth that Stiles keeps for himself. 

-I feel anxious, like there is something horrible happening out of my reach, and I stuck in this bed, useless, paralyzed. And it is just not that. I’ve seen others who were afraid of me, you know, before those meaningless fights, when I looked at them, beyond of Alpha posturing, claws, roars, I saw fear; a fear that works in my favor, but I always find it disturbing; like they can see something that I can’t about me. All those challenges, near deaths, I did a lot of bad things in past, horrible things, most of them you witnessed closely, you know what I’m capable of, but this last thing, I thought even I couldn’t dare to pull of something this level of fucked up. And I did, I actually did, when we finally have found some peace, but I can’t understand how could I? Like there really is a part of me that I fail to realize, and I’m terrified of it.

-You are experiencing alienation; generally children feel that throughout their puberty when their wolf makes their presence known. 

-Don’t simplify this, I know what is like to be a teenager with an over enthusiastic wolf. 

Melissa’s dark chocolate eyes soften a bit;

-Stiles, you don’t know about anything about being a teenager, not in that sense I’m afraid, as soon as you manifest you took enormous burden, you didn’t have time for alienation while fighting for us. You happened to wear your wolf so quickly, desperately such that you couldn’t have the luxury to experience a separation, or suspicion. Until now. You’ve finally released from constant emergencies for barely five years, and now you are experiencing a delayed experience. 

-And this is all okay, because in addition to my quarterly status, I somehow managed to remain underdeveloped? 

-Don’t be obtuse, and don’t use that word. I’m not saying your bonding is flawless, and I’m not even talking about the age difference. Derek and you have different backgrounds, different life experiences, and issues that are waiting to be solved but all of this is not a necessarily bad thing. 

-We are talking a seventeen year old here, and my ex-patient, why I have to remind every time we talk about this I don’t even know. 

-Yes, Stiles, I’m aware of that. And now he is bounded to you and you are to him, you can’t change this fact. You have to embrace it, like you did it when you were sixteen. 

-Well, I’m living in I hate myself so much zone at the moment…

-Your hate for yourself, doesn’t work in Pack’s favor, you know that very well. You have to cut that out before it turns into gangrene. There are some changes waiting for you, and you have to be in your best condition to face it.

-Are you talking about side effects? What is going to happen to me? 

-There are no foreknown side effects, it is not same for everyone, post-bond is not a fixed category that you will have to fill out. However, my educated guess you will be exposed to some serious changes, and we have to be ready for it, if we don’t want to endanger our Pack.

Stiles, catches the hidden meaning, says with determination;

-I will pull it together, I will fix this, I promise.

-We will fix it, Melissa corrects him, we will get this right. You just concentrate on healing.

Stiles reaches out for the spoon, despite the slowness, he is willingly eating the soup, for the first time in days. 

…

After a week of Stiles’ snail-paced recovery, he is finally good enough to walk and talk. As soon as he manages to stand up by himself, the whole pack gathers to discuss the immediate results of their Alpha’s act.

As usual, Lydia is in control of the discussion.

-Okay, she says, we will go by age, John?

John remains quite for a handful of seconds, assessing options carefully one more time;

-We must stay low for a while; observe what will happen next. If they choose to remain passive, we can consider encountering, if not, we have to defend ourselves without being aggressive. 

-Melissa? 

-I’m with John; being rash is the last thing we need now, after all these sudden developments, we need some composure.

-Okay, and what about you Scott?

-I don’t know… He is Stiles’ mate. We will wait for what? I think they reach the wrong conclusion, because of the whole money thing. We can go to them, talk about the whole thing; like when they can see each other, if Derek wants to be a part of our pack… They are not monsters; they will understand, maybe even allow Stiles to talk with Derek, if we tell them honestly what had happened. 

-I favor to wait, Lydia says, finally, but not that long, the pieces are already moving, we have lost half a point in the stock market this week, we need to be careful, but we can’t afford to be passive. 

Stiles, the last one who talks, only mutters;

-We will wait.

When the pack continues to watch him, he adds with guilt;

-We will wait for the right time, if circumstances force our hand, then we will act accordingly, however, whether we wait or act I will consult with pack in every step of the way, and when we sit to talk to them, we will do it with honesty. 

And he doesn’t say, I need to see him, he doesn’t say, there is something dark growing in me with his absence, he can’t make himself say it, because he believes he is unworthy of it. 

…

-Hello, I’m Amanda Greer calling from the RedPoint, the unfamiliar voice says, can I talk to Stiles Stilinski?

-Oh, hi Amanda, Stiles says stupidly, how can I help you?

-I’m sorry to declare that RedPoint has terminated your contract due to the violation of the contract, says Amanda’s young voice cheerily, you are free to come to collect your things, if you have any further questions please visit Public Relations in office hours. 

Stiles sits down, legs shaking, his head feels like boiling.

-I… Okay, thank you. 

-Have a nice day Mr. Stilinski.

Stiles silences the phone, and mourns for hours, motionless and quite. He knew that this is bound to happen, yet, it hurts all the while, loosing all those years, all those hopes so suddenly. They can’t revoke your license, Lydia had said when he asked, but you can’t force them to give you a job either, she also added bitterly, you have to make yourself used to the idea, maybe you can buy a big farm with Derek’s dowry? Stiles hardly constrained himself from strangling her, and now himself honestly.

…

There are no wood-panels, heavy colors or leather chairs in Lydia’s office; pastel walls displays a well-earned Harvard diploma sitting on an expensive coral frame, opposite wall shines with a rich, talented Warhol replica, the only unoriginal thing in the room.

Lydia in the center, like a queen in its hive, meditates on her next problem. Said problem is currently flickering insistently on the screen. Lydia’s keen eyes follow the little red arrow, which is pointing crudely downwards. 

-I will demand an appointment with Peter Hale, Lydia says finally; thoughts chasing the rapidly changing signs serenely. We are crushing down so fast, it is impossible to think that’s happening naturally. They are destroying us on the market.

Pen cap biting, leg swinging, murmuring, cursing, questioning Alpha finally stops vibrating, and says;

-You can’t.

-Yes I can, he is a Beta like me.

-Lydia, Stiles bursts, he is the devil incarnate!

Prada barks from her corner, joining the conversation despite her old age. 

-And I’m a genius, she says to both of them, I can fix this.

-Okay. I will come with you.

-No, you will sit here and wait for me to solve this mess, like a good, established Alpha. You will not cheapen our deal with your overprotective attitude. 

Stiles walks closer, his voice dead serious; 

-Lydia, they are different from us, they have experience of centuries not years, I have done my research, I have enough evidence suggests that Peter plays dirty, like bloody dirty; he can hurt you.

-There are all kinds of sharks living in this world; we already aware of that, Lydia answers with an all-knowing tone. 

-And I trust you, she continues, if Peter hurts me you will find that unlucky bastard, and he will pay for it.

-And what will he possess to pay for that? There is nothing out there to fill the void if he takes you from us. What will we do if he really?..

-Now you are dramatizing, there is no reason for any of that, there will be witnesses, and cameras recording where I am going, Peter is everything but not a fool. He will know where to stop, I will make him stop if it comes to that. 

Stiles’ gaze promises a touch of darkness, burning quietly, possessively, like it did every time there was a need for it, and that’s why there is no suspicion, or hesitance when it comes to him being her Alpha, despite all the pride she carries since her childhood like a curse. 

-I’m afraid that he will see what you truly are, Stiles confesses with a whisper, and once he realize what stands before him he will want to capture it. 

Lydia’s cold, rational voice interrupts Stiles’ fevered, emotional one. 

-We can’t play safe, not this time, it is not solely our market value; the pensions, credits, everything. If we loose our credibility, there will be no insurance for John or Melissa. We will bankrupt first, then vultures within the vicinity will come for what was once ours. 

-I’m aware of that.

Stiles stands up slowly, he walks towards her, silently.

-This is not the only way of contact, he says, I can talk to him privately, nobody will know.

The voice, the manner, it is an utter shock to her system. Lydia feels the pressure like a sharp, brilliant hook sinking in her flesh, warm and bitterly sweet like mad honey. Stiles’ face is glowing with a light layer of sweat. His normally tame, familiar scent burns like sugar, light yet persuasive. They both are drifting now, not quite themselves, but nothing less or more. 

She is astonished; probably for the first time in her life, she can’t even utter a word. 

When she doesn’t answer he starts spewing shit, they both know that, but somehow she listens and he continues.

-Lydia, I know you, I know that you don’t want to go. I can’t trust that man with any of you, how will I suffer, if I loose any of you.

He is towering over her now, face beautifully closed, dark. She is rising with his power, like a chanting chasing its middle notes, if she obeys, she will be satisfied, brimful, choked for the first time in her life. She feels warm, and itchy, unfocused and overly focused.

Some part of her mind, well-trained, suspicious, opens up forcefully, she remembers like reading form a book; this is the seduction, what brings most violent Betas to their knees, the lulling chasm looks into your soul. She shakes with fear and desire when she understands what is happening, after all those years finally her Alpha claiming his power, and over such a trivial issue. For a moment, she sees herself as an Alpha mate, sharing the power, then, taking it only for herself, seducing too easily, she can pass even through the keyhole, winning every heart she desires. 

In the midst of her dark, deep thoughts she sobers with shame; she is blessed with a tremendous ambition, and a little bit cruelty. She does not fit in that position, never was, never will be. She remembers the little mate finally; there is already someone there, a possible, child-like Helen drawing them near to their destruction. Someone who wants Stiles like she cannot, wants him when he is not burning, when he fades and hides away, like every Alpha does in the end inevitably. 

Lydia shakes his influence over herself, like shaking a mountain, and slowly, so slowly puts a space between them;

-You are using the pull, she finally manages to say.

-No I don’t, Stiles denies. You know I don’t.

There is no pressure suddenly, that sick warmness disappears like it never exists.

Lydia’s perfect brow climbs high boldly, she looks pointedly at Prada; she is an aggressive creature at her best, now suspiciously pliant, dark eyes following the Alpha, still ready for his orders.

-I felt it, very strongly towards the end.

Stiles cringes visibly, giving her space immediately;

-I’m… sorry, I didn’t even realize.

She perfectly knows what has happened is not calculated beforehand, or conscious choice; it is the pressure of the new bond, the absence of the mate, fear of lost, Stiles is drifting, dragging her on the way, yet, she feels betrayed, confused, Lydia blossoms a small, poisonous smile;

-You are preparing for him, she accuses, and as soon as she says it she knows that it is true.

And the look Stiles is giving reflects same opinion.

She adds with a new agitation;

-He will be impressed of such a power display I’m sure.

Stiles swallows like there is a bile in his mouth. 

-Don’t do that, I didn’t want to hurt you, I never want to do that, he says, guiltily, probably honest.

-I will return as soon as I secure our assets, she says, at the end of her rope.

-What? No. Why not tomorrow or I don’t know next week? 

-I have already arranged the meeting Stiles, just drink something while I’m gone, think about your joyous mating, 

Salmon door’s closed behind her, leaving Stiles with bright colored but aesthetically arranged furniture, fuchsia collared Prada strangely still under spell watching him with utter devotion. 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no Derek in this chapter as well-sorry, but the next episode, if you continue to read, I will make up for it I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

The building consists of four, massive floors; at the top there is a simple triskele, beside of that, there are no signs or letters decorating the place. Exterior design holds a good equilibrium between the modern and traditional, with its almost translucent front; large, luminous windows and more obscure parts hiding where the forest behind stretches out miles and miles away.

She parks her silver Tesla, taking her beautiful Birkin bag, begins to walk well-collected and not intimidated at all by apparently empty walk side. 

6 feet tall, civil dressed securities X-ray her; of course the damn thing immediately dings.

-You have to put down your earrings and any kind of jewelry you are wearing in that box, they say.

She does what they told.

They repeat the process once again; their demeanor is screaming lax, relaxed. They are acting like typical little Beta soldiers that every inch they are. Except that, they are professional, she knows that walk; before here, they probably were operating in Kabul.

The second time the machine stays silent.

-Are you carrying a gun? Or any sharp objects? 

-No.

-We have to look at your bag, are you carrying any kind of herbs?

-No, I’m not.

She doesn’t resist, or try to pull lawyer card, instead swiftly opens her bag, hiding her displeasure while they search slowly her personal belongings; such a crude, vain game Hales’ playing.

-Are you taking the full responsibility if you get caught with any of these we mentioned before within the boundaries of Hale pack?

-If you can prove that you didn’t plant those in my bag yourselves, then yes. 

There is a tense silence for a few seconds.

-Good day madam, says finally one of them.

And she is inside of the beast’s belly. 

She takes in the long, deserted corridor before her. Despite the appeared vacancy of the entrance, she easily catches distant sounds coming from the upper floors.

-Martin? A new, smug voice reaches her, dangerously bordering on plain rudeness. 

-The very same. 

The busty blonde’s amber eyes brighten sharply with her tone, she half grins, showing perfect, sharp teeth.

-Follow me.

Skipping the elevator, she follows her leather skirt towards the wide, wooden staircase, spiraling between the floors. It is not unusual, using attractive ones on the front; she catches herself looking at her long legs, the display is obviously calculated, showing almost everything, still hiding enough to arouse wonder. 

Heels clicking monotonously, they climb together, while Lydia acutely feels the presence of others everywhere yet to catch their sight. 

The blonde takes her to the top; the hall suddenly opens in front of them at their last step; bright and warm with natural light. Everything around them is equal parts of plain and sophisticated; colors bear the trace of forests; deep green, pale morning yellow, oak grey and finally she sees them, melting perfectly in background only to shine like flames, randomly entering or exiting. They are everywhere, young and beautiful, perfect; blondes, brunettes, and a dazzling ebony who comes to meet them. 

-Erica, he says, eyes drinking her in silently, I will take over our guest.

Erica looks at him mischievously.

-Our guest seems to desire your guidance more, as it seems, she purrs, what a shame.

When stone-faced Lydia doesn’t respond to her goading she smiles sharply, and leaves like she came, joining the others in their perfect sync, disappears in shared landscape. 

It is damn impressive; the power behind these Betas, covering them like an invisible hand. Martins used to be like that according to Natalie, and they lose all of that because they didn’t reproduce generously and the remaining parts damned easily after one little measly marriage mishap. 

-Please, the awfully good-looking man’s neutral tone voices, this way. Mr. Hale is waiting for you.

Peter Hale’s office is at the far corner, hiding behind the heavy doors, not giving any clue what is waiting there. 

The beta opens the door obediently, but doesn’t enter, as soon as she steps in the whole air changes; dark marble floor whispers vanity, power and old money. 

A young Beta, barely twenty, meets her at the entrance. 

With a sulky pair of dark eyebrows, he says;

-Peter will be here in a minute.

The choice of the first name clues her about the man’s status. A kept boy, she notes, to use when the right time comes; beautiful, but a little bit dull, or momentarily somber maybe? Features are not quite offering an exact, adult form yet to decide; definitely too young. 

-What can I offer to you? He says stiffly; tea or coffee?

The words are forced, he is new and particularly bad at this, she thinks. 

-Thank you, Lydia answers, while watching his walk towards the porcelain cups. 

The torso and shoulders are excuse enough for the failed service in Peter’s eyes, as it seems, definitely an unexpected weakness for Peter’s part.

The man in question finally makes his appearance; he is shorter than google images suggested but he walks with an air that demands attention.

-Sven, I will take it from here, please bring the teas in, he says with an especially saccharine voice.

Sven looks at him for a second, like he is in the brink of unleashing. 

She feels a surprise that her futures not showing, Peter’s sapphire eyes express cynicism, shining with provocation, but they are not angry. Lydia closely watches their silent interaction that ends after a handful seconds with young Beta’s submit. 

While Peter continues to smirk, and agitate his young companion, she steals a glance at the small, elegant table sitting within a few meters away from the main room inside. Peter must trust the Beta, she decides, taking the closeness and obligatory transparency comes with it.

-Come, Peter orders finally, already walking inside.

Arguing is out of the question obviously; she follows his steps.

Inside of the office is relatively small, windows hidden behind the thick, floor length curtains. It is suffocating. Peter’s vine colored desk and chair are mounted in the center, like they are the dark heart of the room. 

The wall behind him covers the words ‘‘Debet semper plus esse virium in vectores quam in onere.’’ 

Peter Hale smiles like a snake slithers. Whether deliberately or not knowing his profile only shows the better half of his face. 

-Hale pack motto. My personal favorite is tad different as you may assume.

-Aliquando et insanire iucundum est? Just a guess of course, Lydia says sweetly. She knows one divorce better than to flirt with a reptilian, she does it anyway. 

Peter looks at him; his cold blue eyes show interest. He offers the next words like he is telling an inescapable fortune; 

-Dulce maerenti, populus dolentum. Although for a little while I considered Aequat omnes cinis. 

With his words Lydia sobers up immediately;

-I’m sorry, she says, but Peter doesn’t have any intention to hear it.

He waves his heavy hand;

-Don’t be.

A ruby faced gleam blinks in his partly missing little finger, like a drop of fresh blood leaking from an unhealed wound. 

-It was an inspiring experience.

With a deliberate head jest he displays his raw wounds with a sneer.

-We all are equal when we are all but ashes, aren’t we Miss Martin? I just need to wait a little bit more.

There is a loud chink sound probably comes from an unlucky glass-ware, followed by slow, guilty steps.

-Leave it there, Peter particularly cruel orders to his assistant.

Young Beta stands there with a pale face.

-I don’t care if you break anything, it is not your first time ruining something precious, just leave the damn thing there.

Beta’s eyes shining like marbles with a mixture of shame and defiance, tray still in his shaky hands. 

Interesting, Lydia decides, the beta has certainly some teeth indeed and he seems not a bit afraid to show it. 

-Do you have anything to say? Peter asks, seeming a little bit murderous.

For a millisecond the Beta actually looks like he is about to throw the tray at Peter.

It is both ridiculous and deathly dangerous. Peter’s increasing agitation is raising Lydia’s hackles. She is wrong about him; he is not cold blooded, on the contrary, he is a man of flame searching only bit of tinder. With the temper both men are displaying, if the blood lust catches them, it only can end badly.

-Please give me the tray, Lydia interrupts calmly, taking the advantage immediately and using it to making room for herself.

-Forgive us, Peter says, while returning his chair, since half of my face lost to me my temper gets better of me. 

Beta’s face ashen a little bit more with the words, he quickly hands over the silver tray, silently withdrawing, without an apology nevertheless.

-Please sit down Miss Martin.

He waits for Lydia while she is taking the beautiful but uncomfortable chair. 

-So, now Miss Martin, do tell me, what the fuck do you want from me?

If not the scene that played a moment ago, but his crude words proves that the rumors about him are true; he is not a sane man. His madness is barely contained, caged by his Alpha only for a while, only for little.

-I want to talk about the future.

Peter slowly walks towards the tray.

-Why do you think I will be interested in that particular topic? He asks while offering the fine china in a kind manner.

-Because Derek chose my Alpha, she answers as taking the tea.

-Derek lately falls into a habit of making wrong decisions. We will do something about this destructive routine of his of course. What is about to be done about your Alpha’s path is the real question, and it is not decided at the moment. Do you have any suggestions? 

There is no point in sidestepping, as it seems.

-Hales can give what truthfully his. 

-Are you talking about Derek or his generous dowry?

-I’m talking about both.

-How lucky this Alpha of yours, he comes into a small fortune. I am almost jealous of him. 

-He is as lucky as his mate is I guess. 

-He is quite a catch you are saying, Peter says, voice low and hinting, and I can see you are being awfully honest at that. 

Remembering the morning vividly, Lydia blushes just a bit despite herself.

-Alphas are rare, and virtuous one is almost impossible to find, she answers, Derek is incredibly lucky I think.

-And this virtuous Alpha of yours, what will he do if we refuse his flimsy, greedy desires? He is going down Miss Martin, and no man can be chaste before the cruel hands of the fate.

-He will do nothing that can harm his mate Mr. Hale.

-Nonsense, your Alpha proves already that he is not a saint, he is not even an ordinary sinner I’m afraid, with a record like that.

For a second, the mask Lydia wears falls down, there is no way, absolutely no way that this man can know what had happened, yet somehow he knows, despite all the careful veils, distractions, buried juvenile records, he knows. She instinctually looks behind, the door has left ajar. Peter already knows but is there any other witness?

-Don’t worry about Sven, he won’t tell anyone. Peter smirks; so you think I didn’t know that Stiles is a murderous little Alpha?

-He is not…

-What? A murderer? An Alpha slayer and at such a young age? But he is, and you can’t deny that. He cheated of course, but that was what I like about him at first. Such a vicious thing your Alpha is Lydia.

Even before asking the question she suspects, no, she knows the answer, but she asks anyway.

-Then why did you allow it? Why let your Alpha hand your nephew over some murderer?

-Oh, but I didn’t allow it. Talia is always a bit traditionalist, whether he is a boy genius or not, she never assigns someone like Stiles to this delicate job. She was almost picking out some ancient dinosaur for his only son. Luckily, I intervened, I dug Stiles out, I personally chose him for Derek. 

A burning smile plays in his whole face.

-Have you ever burn yourself Miss Martin? One can think searing pain is the worst part of it, but I can tell you that foul smell of the flesh, the stench of your frying face can defeat the pain.

At that moment, she sees him as what he truly is; a hideous spider, waiting patiently for his prey, and here she is, in the heart of his web, and even then she is not sure what he is truly after.

-What the fuck do you want from us?

-See, Lydia, I never believe this shit about Stiles being innocuous, young healer, even when Talia was ready to kiss under his filthy heels, and I was right. He is a piece of fuck, better than that, he is a butcher. Society these days, he says, mockingly disapproving. A little bit educating darkness for Derek to inhale? It was a necessary scene for removing him from his damned naïve nature. Stiles’ sessions designed to be an essential part of Derek’s ending adolescence. But deceiving an Omega for money, for power? Stiles exceeds even my best expectations but we have to draw a line here I think.

Without knowing she stands;

-Do you really believe any word you say? Despite everything Stiles tried his best for his patients including your nephew. And he didn’t deceive Derek, your nephew bit him. Do you deny it?

-I’m merely pointing the truth; your Alpha grooms him to desire, to bite and the fool did what he was told like always.

-That is not true, and you damn know that.

-Do you know what he said in one of his sessions with Derek? I’m quoting word by word; ‘‘don’t be afraid of your desires Derek, you only will be free when you allow yourself to desire something truly once again’’.

-He is a heat mentor; it is only natural for him to encourage Derek about his feelings.

-He was a heat mentor. And how that goes for your pack? You will be penniless by the end of the year if I calculate rightly. 

-Of course you calculate rightly, you are the one playing with our market value. 

-And you have done nothing to prevent it; you have such a focused eye on the dowry that you can’t even spare the time to save your miserable bank account.

-I’m here, am I not?

-Not an improvement I’m afraid.

-When you will restore our stock value, it will be.

-Why the hell I will do that?

-Let’s be real, your pack wired into us at the second Derek bit my Alpha. If we go down we will drag you with us. You will stop hindering our business, you will end this sadistic bullshit and we will help you to clear this scandal. 

-I don’t think so. Rumors have a tendency to be buried as soon as there is a candidate to fill its place. I think we will bury your pack and the rumors all the same.

-Even so you can’t take what is already ours.

-But you have nothing, and you will have nothing. 

-Yes we will, everything Derek has, Stiles owns it, and I will be there when he claims it. 

Peter calmly sips his tea;

-As I correctly assume, you are not aiming at the dowry, you are behind Derek’s share?

-We only want what we already have the right for. 

-Such a little care Derek has given and what a great thing your Alpha waits in return. And by the way where is the happy mate to be? My nephew doesn’t have any chance to see him yet 

-He is waiting for his full healing. 

-I didn’t know that superficial injuries like that require such a long time to heal.

-When the healing involves both mental and physical recovery, yes it needs more time.

-You are forgetting that we looked after Derek. At the end of the second week, your excuse lost its validity. 

-We have valid reasons, pack’s elders suggested to wait.

-How restrained, calculated steps; not very romantic is it?

Suddenly it downs on her, this total ridicule they are performing not for them, Peter obviously above the romantic aspect of the relationship, Lydia, likewise, doesn’t give a shit about it for this very second, so why Peter brings that? Why using those particular words? And she knows, she fucking knows, and her heart breaks for both Derek and Stiles. 

Lydia bares her teeth;

-You fucking sneaky bastard.

Peter immediately catches her drift;

-Yeah show me your teeth, you are not harmless, polished lawyer you tried to be, you are the left hand. Don’t be afraid to show him your true face, as you supposedly will also be his left hand one day. 

Derek or Sven, whatever the name he chooses, is there, standing in the entrance, for how long she doesn’t know. Sad, mournful, young mate. It is already messing with her head seeing him like this; a supposed, vital part of her pack. He gazes her with a beetle browed, weary look; looking unfairly old for his age, and before she utters a word, he turns on his heels, wandering away like a broken toy doesn’t know the way. 

-Why do you torture us? Lydia asks, thinking about Peter’s words, both to his nephew and her. 

-Dulce maerenti, populus dolentum, he answers with a mad smile, if you have enough, close the door behind yourself please.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok,I know I kinda did break my promise, but this part obviously needed to stand alone and I had to cut down the other half for its sake. So Derek and Stiles is waiting at the other end. I'm sorry T T . Really. But soon... (If you still believe my words, I hope you are).
> 
> For Latin quotes, all four of them from Seneca.
> 
> Debet semper plus esse virium in vectores quam in onere : Who carries the burden, must always greater than the burden.
> 
> Aliquando et insanire iucundum est : Sometimes it is enjoyable to be insane.
> 
> Dulce maerenti, populus dolentum : It is sweet for one in grief to know that other people suffer.
> 
> Aequat omnes cinis: Ashes makes everybody equal. 
> 
> Although I took Latin for a year, I seriously suck at this, so thank you latin top word.


	5. Chapter 5

After everything had happened, it is the Sunday breakfasts that dread him the most. The pack tries almost anything to give him that old feeling of belonging. Still, more often than not, he feels comfortable as a Martian in a UN assembly.

-Derek, pass the salt please. 

Derek passes it mechanically. 

-I heard you visited Peter last week in office, Talia says in a neutral voice.

-Yes.

His mother’s piercing eyes travels slowly over his face. 

-Considering working with him?

-Definitely no.

Everybody get used to his curd answers, however that doesn’t mean that they particularly like it. 

Laura joins the conversation; she seems like a mini Talia with her new Alpha confidence. 

-And what are you planning to do? We all have worked at the company through our university years. 

Derek flushes suddenly; he can feel there is something trickling inside of his leg slowly.

-I don’t want to talk about it now.

-But you have to…

Like she doesn’t know that he bit an unwilling Alpha, like she doesn’t know Stiles didn’t even come for him afterwards, like they can all ignore that his life in suspense now, waiting for the major change that must happen, that will happen one way or another. 

-No, I don’t. 

Laura seems like she wants to share her Alpha wisdom with Derek but their mother just does a gentle gesture and stops her. 

Laura silently exhales, gulping down her proud asks Cora about the riding course, which Cora responds with a scowling answer of; ‘‘they are all stupid, but I really like horses.’’ 

Derek eats his plate with quick jabs of his fork, Spanish omelet be damned, then stands up abruptly, leaving the table without a word while everybody is watching him with variety of frowns. 

He hears light steps following him outside.

-Derek, wait!

-What do you want?

He winces internally realizing his tone is too harsh, almost chiding.

-What is going on? You are crankier than last week. 

-I don’t want to talk about.

Laura catches him by shoulder. For a moment he wants to strangle her. 

Her face falls slightly; 

-I’m not your enemy, Derek. You can tell me what is going on.

Derek quickens his steps; they pass through the long pine trees, until they reach the narrow path none of them open their mouths for a whole fifteen-minute.

-Don’t you have work to do?

Laura scolds;

-Don’t be stupid.

Finally the small lake appears in front of them. 

Derek looks at his sister, they look almost like twins, and suddenly he feels bitter. 

He was an Omega version of his Alpha sister once upon a time; adored by the crowd, desired by everyone. Unlike her, he chose to be alone mostly, nevertheless, his solitude was his choice, and it was frequently pierced by longing admirers. He didn’t understand it then, how he used to it, how he became dependent on it, until suddenly it is over. One moment he is worshiped, constantly showered with attention then suddenly he passes for neutral. Even though the wetness dripping from his thighs claims that he most certainly is not. 

Derek walks through the lake, hot pebble stones clattering beneath his feet. 

Laura looks around unwillingly;

-It is too hot to sit here.

-Then don’t. 

Laura finally gets mad, she turns to look at him like he is a crease in her shirt that she can’t straightens how hard she irons. 

-You are acting like a brat. 

-I want to be alone.

Laura widens her stand, announcing her stubborn nature loudly. 

-I don’t care.

And she doesn’t, does she. 

-You will tell me what is going on with you again.

Derek wants to throw pebbles at her fucking crimson eyes. 

Shame and anger fills him, pouring from every cell of his body. He tightens his jaw, ignoring that the growing wetness between his legs; if this drags on, it will be visible through his blue shorts at some point. His heart clenches with fear. Laura can’t smell it, nobody can but she ought to be blind to miss dark spot. What will he do then? What if Laura tells his mother? He knows that he should tell them, the instant when he got sick. For his defense he didn’t know back then what does that mean. Until Peter caught him, and choked him full with bitter herbs and words full with disdain and revelation: phantom heat, that was the name of his torture and there was no cure of it. 

How could he say anything? And why? Even before Kate was caught, every teenager in Beacon Hills learnt Derek’s story by heart as a warning, and all those doors that Derek didn’t care before began to be slammed in his face. At first he was shocked enough to not realize what was going on. Weeks passed as his mother, or Laura hauled his ass outside, and at this involuntary rides he began to catch small clues; he didn’t receive free coffees at coffee shops anymore. Young Alphas pass through him without throwing a glance, older ones looks at him judgingly when Talia was not around but they didn’t dare to say anything openly to Hale Omega. And one day an eighty year old yelled after him; ‘Squeezed’. He understood that it was an insult, if not from the man’s voice Laura’s reaction. But he didn’t know what did that mean; he was naïve like that back then. 

A couple of weeks later when Peter taunted him about the vaginal muscles that clamped down, locking the pair, during the intercourse. He finally got it how exactly female Alphas mated. He was kissed, touched, he came with her fingers a couple of times, but she never tried to bite Derek or mate with him and he didn’t even think about it until she tried to murder his family. Was it one twisted attempt of saving the grace? Was she acting out of mercy just for once? He was so confused, constantly dreaming about her, hating and yearning for her, that he believed for a short time she actually didn’t mate with him because she chose to spare him from this kind of pain and shame. 

Until the day he found himself drenched with sweat, burning with desire and hollowness, shaking in his room all alone, feeling like dying from sorrow and loneliness. And he understood at those long hours that it was not mercy, but the raw cruelness. He read it from one of the book Peter gave to him and learnt that it was a rare torture; it requires a real talent, grooming an Omega until he falls into a phantom bond, and suspending them infinitely in that place without creating the real bond. In Derek’s case, it was like a wound itching that he couldn’t reach, he cried, he screamed, he made it bleed with constant scratching, but Kate was already gone, and there will be nobody to make it bearable since she left a ghost of her in him behind, so he stayed trapped where Kate locked him in. 

Somehow telling them that she was still torturing him, will torture him till the rest of his life worse than the actual pain. Not going into neutrality because of the trauma is another shame, like it was a confession of his lewdness, dirtiness. Why bother his family with his hideous nature? It is stupid confessing a sickness that cannot be healed.

At least, until Stiles came he thought that it couldn’t be healed. Now he is doubtful about everything he read in Peter’s books. 

-Leave me the fuck alone. 

He tries to pass her, but of course she doesn’t let him. He tries to shake her off furiously, only to be answered by her piercing grip.

He snarls at her, and she roars to bring him to heel. It can work, if Derek doesn’t feel enraged and doesn’t already have an Alpha. 

He pulls his arm with a sudden move, they stumble together, Derek falls on his ass, and for a second he thinks Laura will jump at him, instead she stops dead, her eyes open with surprise, taking the wide open v of his brother’s legs. 

Only for a second Derek looks down to see that his front is drenched, then he grabs a palm-sized rock and throws at his sister. Surprisingly, she doesn’t move, and it hits her head with a terrifying slam. 

Laura doesn’t even grunt, she wipes the blood trailing down her face. She seems paralyzed, Derek knows her well enough to recognize the signs of her inner quarrel; she is livid and wants to interrogate Derek, was it Kate, is it Stiles? For how long this has been going on? But she is sad at the same time, and doesn’t know how to ask Derek without hurting his brother anymore than she already did. 

Derek feels like a wild animal, unable to work out a solution, unable to find a lie to tell.

-Derek? 

Her voice is low and Derek sees that she is on the verge of tearing up, which churns up his stomach. 

-Is it Stiles? How long?...

Derek shakes his head.

-No.

-Kate?

He feels a strange pain, hearing her name coming from Laura’s mouth after all those months of avoiding. He wants to tell yes, but there is something in his throat, something in the size of a golf-ball. 

-I can’t understand. I thought you didn’t bond with her?

He swallows and swallows, feeling like he is about to vomit but he talks instead. 

-I didn’t.

Laura stands there, her eyes vacant like what Derek says is so huge that she can’t cram in. 

-There is something they call phantom bond, is that what you are talking?

But before he can answer she kneels and hugs him. 

Derek doesn’t respond, he watches the lake blindly while his sister hugging him; he knows why she is crying and wants to tell that this is an endearment what he feels now, next to what Kate gave him. Yet, he couldn’t tell her that, when it comes to Kate, his words dry out. 

He whispers instead to her wild dark hair; 

-He doesn’t… he is good. 

And he does not tell her that something in him got rotten with Kate, that he trapped Stiles willingly; he decided way back, when he first realized that Stiles’ pupils blown when he looked at him. He faked neutrality, letting him work to wake his heat when he got phantom heats all the while. He acted obtuse, and tricked him as his painful heats changed direction slowly. They began to fill with Stiles’ face and voice and hands more and more. Until it purely took the shape of Stiles, until he couldn’t suppress it anymore and he bit him, knowing all the while it will destroy him.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if you catch a mistake! Thank you for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In sum: Derek and his private thoughts.

His eyes are opened suddenly, the cold light of the early morning falls through, he feels a tremor in his body like a metronome: it begins and shakes him and then pauses. He holds his breath, trying to calm himself to no avail. He has no lock on his door, lost that privilege a while ago; maybe they thought without heats the lock would be unnecessary, or it simply is too dangerous for him to have a lock, considering what he had done last time he had one on his door, whatever, Derek has nothing to say on that matter. He just feels unsafe without a lock; terrified that someone can walk in on, see how he is, his true self, he swallows back the bile threatening to rise. He listens carefully; the whole house is in deep sleep, peaceful. When he is about to get up, a crackle reaches to his ears like a thunder. Laura or maybe Peter? The sound dies like it begins, but he waits with patience, not daring to risk it. He waits maybe for twenty minutes like that, and then stands silently, he lefts like a mouse, so, so silently. 

The road to the lake feels serene, still cold with the night. Only sound he can hear is an early sparrow. He walks, thirsty, barefoot and so very alive. He falls down to his knees immediately once he arrives to his favorite spot. There is a tall pine tree with a bald soil under without grass, he falls onto his knees immediately, his knees burn with a sweet sting. He feels a sudden throb coming from the bite mark, echoes deep in his body. He palms himself with harsh hands; he likes it like this, he is not like the others; he wonders, when Stiles knows it, sees it, what will he think about it? Even if he knows how disturbed Derek is, where he can go, leaving his mate behind? Nowhere. These new curious thoughts pain him in an unusual way. Kate hurt him with the promise of his perish, this time Derek suffers because he has hope; a dark, stained thing fluttering inside him. A recurring, aching thought comes to him as he is jacking himself with dry hands; like an old, worn song he sings to himself. He has to have him, the words are repeated in his mind again and again; he just has to. He imagines capturing him like he did before, biting his pale neck while pushing his whole body down under him. At first Stiles would resist him, not moving, not responding to him, he would talk like he always do, softly, pleading. When Derek takes him inside, he would try to stay soft but cannot resist, Derek knows it. He imagines moving slowly, hurtingly on top of him, Stiles would turn his face trying not to look at him; saying; don’t, don’t. He imagines Stiles pinching his thighs with a furious face when he understands he cannot go anywhere, he is hard and he is actually, helplessly fucking Derek, he imagines Stiles slapping him but then kissing him while they fuck because he is like that, sweet and bitter. He imagines Stiles scrapping his back bloody, like he wants to escape but there is nowhere to go. Derek is his mate, he can bite, slap, pinch but cannot leave him. Derek would kiss him while Stiles comes in him, and Stiles bite him in answer, arms around him, holding, keeping him anyway. 

Derek comes in his hand, not satisfied not even a bit, aching for another round. He stands up anyway, wiping his sticky hands to his dirtied, torn pajama pants. He was a weird omega before, that was probably the reason how Kate caught him; but this is a brand new madness even for an omega like himself. He just wants to fuck his hand while imagining Stiles for hours, he wants to fuck Stiles for hours. He strips down, walks at the cool, lucid lake. The water strikes him immediately like an icy pool, biting instead of soothing him, and he knows why. He burns for Stiles, he literally burns for him, those others, guiltless and clean cannot suffer like him, cannot want like that, cannot dare to ruin their Alphas in order to have them. He once wanted Kate like that, so healthy, so innocent, but only after her, he learns how to ache, how to suffer and now he is doing it for Stiles and in a way he wants Stiles to suffer for him like that, he has to have him totally, undeniably, burningly, without an ugly whisper of doubt.

He closes his eyes and swims a little bit after trying not to think anything particular, it lasts only for a couple of minutes. He stops lapping and lies flat, letting the water carry his weight, it is almost like a dream. He calls Stiles from his memories; how Stiles’ irises blew slightly when he first saw him. Derek stared at the Alpha relentlessly, tried to understand him, nobody could want him, nobody should see him anymore. But Stiles looked at him, took him in. The alpha’s posture erected, he smiled so easily, and Derek recognized that particular canine showing act from past and it shook him. He felt sudden uneasiness with this new thing, piercing his bleak, secluded life. He used to shake off those smiles easily, it happened so frequently; a smile could not enough for him to dwell on. This time he and his clenched hands stayed stuck, he felt like any second he would do something to give himself away, and he didn’t know what his mother would do if she were to caught what was going on. He casted his eyes to the ground in an absurd attempt to delay the inevitable end, nevertheless he could feel Stiles’ stubborn eyes on him all the while, drawing patterns on him like he could not take his eyes away from him. Derek was hardly containing the buzzing potential inside, practically shaking with it and miraculously it just went unnoticed. His mother missed Stiles’ eyes, the electrical current that flowing between Stiles and Derek. Which was impossible, absurd to even imagine in past. But now was different from the past, wasn’t it? Talia knew that his son had throw away his chance to find a willing mate months ago. Even if she didn’t shut her eyes to Stiles’ interest consciously, she did it instinctually. And he handed his son over with a kind, motherly coddling, just like that. 

Stiles guided him inside the room, he closed the door behind them; ‘‘Please, sit wherever you want to’’ he said with a friendly voice. And before paralyzed Derek could even move the Alpha went to a near couch in an absent-minded manner; he grabbed the green covered book on it, removing the slim copy with a restless hand. Then, nervously patted a small pillow until he looked satisfied, before inviting him once again. Derek watched him thunderstruck, all of this play unraveling in front of him, for him, was so familiar yet so alien. Derek finally ordered himself to move and sat across Stiles. Stiles, did not act like the genius Peter mentioned too many times to his mother, he seemed young, younger than most of the past suitors of Derek. Whether he was a defamed, ruined omega or not, Derek felt the stirrings of that old pride in his chest with surprise, he could not give himself to just anybody. Any sane person could think he had learned his lesson and knew he had to act like all humble and grateful, but no, of course not, he just had to feel picky. He scoffed to himself, like he had the luxury of to act fastidiously. Yet, he knew that he could not simply turn off the feeling, it was a major part of his old self; a stubborn part that he thought was dead and buried long ago after all that humiliation. Yet, he couldn’t help but crossing his arms, examining the Alpha with a patronizing gaze, daring him to show his worth. Stiles did not seemed fazed by his attitude, like some lesser Alpha would, on the contrary, he smirked teasingly, and weirdly enough it did not bothered Derek, not at all. He just looked Stiles’ bright, challenging eyes and as close as to believe there was a god above designating his fickle, worthless life, Derek decided it was his fate to try and see this through whether it ends with a mate or not. 

He drifts away with these balmy memories a little bit more, well knowing that he has to return to home very soon, he gives himself just five minutes more. It is addictive to think about him, to think and gather all the evidence, hoping that; it will be enough for Stiles to come for him. 

His teeth remember so vividly Stiles’ blood, coating his whole mouth with a syrupy heaviness. He dripped while he was locked between Stiles’ legs, after hours of hazy begging, finally the Alpha’s eyes shone with a crimson glaze, his canines sharpened, they were almost there, Stiles grabbed his ass and pulled him close, absurdly enough it felt like the most intimate thing Derek experienced. He sensed the fingers with scorching clarity, covering his ass, fingertips barely brushing his inner thigh; he suddenly felt like he was taking Stiles’ virginity with that touch, penetrating him, despite Stiles was the one touching him. He heard the hot breath of Stiles, reaching his neck, and he stilled with a burning, crushing desire, he wanted to be bit, and just like that with a delirious haze Stiles bit him.

Derek leaves the lake with a body slightly cooler and a cock madly erect. His knees sting all the way and he gets harder because of it in every step. He never sees a slap in his home or an open kiss, and he does not know why he is like that. When all the other omegas like to be kissed softly, why he turns out like that? But there is nothing to do about it, so he leaves the idle thoughts and returns quickly to home, desperately willing himself to get soften. He has to prepare for school before everyone gets up, he has to shower to hide away how desperately aches for him, dress his dark blazer and white shirt like everything is okay and he is not going batshit crazy, sit in class for endless hours silently, imagining that Stiles will come for him one of these days. He has to because whatever shit Peter says, he actually knows Stiles will come, he just knows.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the meeting.

Old security looks at Stiles and takes in his young face, loose shirt with uninterested eyes.

-You need to register the car and get a sticker beforehand.

-Hey man just let me in this time ok, this baby is new and I want to show it off. 

The man looks at his jeep, asshole, then looks at his watch and remembers that he is about to take a lunch break just as Stiles thinks.

-You are on scholarship boy?

-Yeah?

The man sighs;

-Just for this once. And hey! Don’t wear that thing again, he gestures vaguely Stiles’ shirt, they may take that grant away if they see you like that.

-Yeah, I keep that in mind. Thank you man! I really appreciate it.

The jeep moves in haste, passing rich kids cars and settles into where its driver can see the main gate but cannot be seen easily, waiting the release of the class, which will be happened approximately in three hours. Stiles waits with manic legs, and drumming fingers, thinking that every second Derek can pass those doors, he might skip a class or something, Stiles watches it carefully, closely but Derek does not show up. 

After three hellish hours of wait students finally begin to flow through the doors and Stiles sees him immediately, in the vast sea of high-schoolers in their identical uniforms Stiles recognizes Derek with a jolt in his heart. Colorful umbrellas begin to pop open in tandem despite the lightness of the October rain; Derek remains unaware, blazer unbuttoned as if he does not feel the autumn air. Stiles hears like a lullaby that other kids moving around, joking, arguing, yet he only sees Derek as walking slowly, there are children taller than him, but Derek seems older, it is a thing to watch him while he passes through among his peers like he is walking in another world, separated from them entirely, isolated even. It breaks Stiles’ heart like no other. He didn’t have the chance to be with others, to be young and carefree, and now watching that Derek all alone in his burning beauty is killing him one more time. 

He remains in his car and waits for Derek to get in his car readying himself to follow him but Derek just leans against a ridiculous black Camaro and stands there despite the quickening rain. Kids leave one by one until just Derek is left behind.

Stiles, not quite knowing what to do silences the motor, leaves the jeep keys still in contact and begins to run towards Derek, trying to avoid rain uselessly.

He catches Derek saying to his phone;

-Laura, I said I’m coming, and shutting down it with a scowl.

This close up his face seems so pale. 

Stiles stops and half shouts over the pouring rain;

-Derek, please, can we talk? 

Derek does not startle or look at him, does not say anything but straightens up and Stiles wonders if he will drive away leaving Stiles miserable and crestfallen on the spot. Derek gets into the car, giving an uncomfortable lurch to Stiles’ stomach but he opens the side door and Stiles just rushes into the invitation. 

They both are drenched and cold, but Stiles is not capable of feeling uncomfortable at the moment. He just looks at Derek, while the motor purrs underneath them, takes him in. Derek has changed; changed like a hot, burning summer coming suddenly after months of hazy spring. The pretty but hesitant lines of his face, his body are now inked in by deft hands, he is sharply, terrifyingly, undeniably beautiful. Stiles tries to will his eyes away, but he finds out quickly that he cannot. While Derek takes them to an unknown destination Stiles just watches him, his shoulders, hands, and his ghostly face. 

-We are going too fast. 

Derek, for the first time, turns his face and looks at him; his green eyes are shining like broken bottles;

-You made me wait too long. 

Stiles feels like he is melting with the words, the heavy meaning behind. 

Stiles does not know what to say without giving himself away entirely, he has an abundance of things that he wants to say but nothing feels safe enough to share, he dreads the possibility of pressuring Derek into something he is not ready yet and while he stays uncertainly silent Camaro passes the empty roads like a thunder, forest following them on the side blurring to a green grey blink. 

Derek finally slows down when they enter in a narrow, gravel road linked to the Hale forest, wild tree branches scrape the car loudly, a restless feeling is growing inside of Stiles with every passing second, but he decides that if Derek wants to take Stiles to Hales he cannot say no. He will just accept Derek’s decision even if he wishes nothing more than to stay with Derek alone. Derek’s focus stays purely on the road for those 30 endless minutes until the road suddenly ends in the middle of nowhere and the car stops. 

Derek looks at him with a steely face. They sit silently for a while as Stiles tries to clear his mind to explain what has happened after the incident, he wants to apologize and reach an agreement. He wishes to be understood by Derek and understand him. He wants to talk, to hear Derek’s thoughts even if he is sure that in the end the bitterness of the accusations will wound him.

But Derek takes his phone and shuts it off and says with a calm voice; 

-There is a hunting lodge a mile from here we use it in winter. 

What does Derek mean dawns on him suddenly. 

-Derek, God, I don’t come because I… We need to talk first, we need to… I don’t know what other people do before the...? I probably must talk with your Alpha, and you are just seventeen, why the rush? We can manage to wait a little bit more, right?

Derek’s gaze pierces him like an arrow, he peels off his blazer as an answer making a ball of it and throwing it at the back seat. 

-What are you doing?

Derek answers with a biting voice.

-I’m wet. 

And for a second Stiles cannot understand what he means and he thinks erratically he is wet wet. 

Derek reaches to back seat and pulls a black leather bag, he opens it with visible ire revealing spare clothes inside. Even his fingers seem vibrant, the buttons of his white shirt begin to pop like he is not opening but ripping them off, and that quick pops reveal his bare chest so sudden Stiles can’t help it but stare. 

Derek’s hips are still narrow just like his waist, but his legs fill out his black pants madly, like if he wants to peel them the pants might actually get caught by those calves. There is a dark treasure trail running down; he is all sharp lines despite being just seventeen. Stiles was just a bundle of nerves at that age, and an Alpha slayer, Stiles shuts that train of thought immediately and wills his eyes away.

Derek unimpressed, reclines his seat, making himself room to remove his wet pants. Stiles turns his burning face towards the window. He hears the deafening sound of a zipper opening, he clenches his fists on his sides and tries to think something else. He closes his eyes but the sudden rush of that musky, mature, naked smell chokes him. He can smell Derek so acutely; he becomes afraid of breathing. 

Pants fly towards the backseat.

-Give me your hand. 

Stiles doesn’t turn, cannot turn or make a move.

-What?

-Stiles, give me your damn hand! 

Derek just pulls his hand.

-Open it.

Stiles forces himself to open his fist, still not looking but knowing, knowing with every fiber of his being what will happen.

His hand touches Derek’s burning skin and Stiles holds his breath while his fingertips meets with a soft, creamy substance running down Derek’s thighs. 

-You are thick, Stiles says with a wonder in his voice turning towards Derek without thinking.

Stiles has never heard before such a quick process. He knows that Derek is already in his way to there, he himself was guiding Derek to there but he guessed it would take a year or two, not now, not like this.

-I was never neutral. 

The words fall like an avalanche. 

-No, you were… I saw the tests.

-You didn’t run the tests. Peter knows people, people that can garble the results.

-Why did he do that? And Stiles’ face becomes murderous with a mad suspicion; Does he?

-No. Not like that. He helped me to hide it. I didn’t want anyone else to know it. I didn’t know that I can get better.

-Of course you can, we talked about that like million times.

-You didn’t know what I was…

-It is not true, Derek I know you, I just didn’t know your exact situation. Why didn’t you tell me all of this before? I could help you. I could do better.

All the possibilities flash before his eyes, the things he could do different if he would realize it just a little bit earlier.

Whatever Derek wants to say buried under his locked jaw. 

Stiles is sharply aware that Derek is still only in his grey boxers, and he certainly is not attempting to dress. 

-You are taking something to repress the smell and maybe some other signals too.

-It is not that hard to hide it, Derek says with that sarcastic tone of his, I don’t get heats, just the phantom ones. 

-Until now, Stiles corrects him without thinking.

Derek looks at him with those green, expressive eyes and nods.

Stiles rubs his fingers, testing the potent texture, Derek is almost there.

Derek looks at his fingers with a fierce desire, like he doesn’t know if he wants to break them between his legs or take them into his ass directly.

Stiles asks with a low, desperate voice, like the answer can really help or change the situation;

When it began exactly?

-When I saw you parking your car.

The answer reveals so much it leaves Stiles breathless, that Derek’s heat can take off so sudden, with such a desperate rush. 

Stiles looks at the tight space they share, he can imagine fucking Derek there, he can try to make it comfortable, despite they both are tall enough to require a Queen Bed to get athletic enough. 

The thing is Stiles is a romantic in his damn core; doing it like that and sending Derek home after would be anticlimactic for Derek if he still has any remaining hopes regarding their future and probably will pain Stiles for the rest of his life. 

For a moment Stiles stays where he is, feeling Derek’s growing doubts like he owns them. He slowly reaches for Derek’s bare arm, resting his hand there.

-We still have enough time to prepare.

Derek shakes his head stubbornly. 

-No. 

-Derek whatever you want, it is yours. I just want to give it to you, to us properly. 

He knows there is no way that Derek can give his trust him entirely, at least for now, after he suffered so long for abandoned by a sociopath. What he will say won’t matter at this point, but he can show him. His fingers travels down Derek’s arm slowly, making Derek inhale shakily. Derek looks at his fingers with a masked surprise, Stiles gets closer for their first kiss intending to make it slow and sweet but then with a bold, unexpected hand Derek pulls Stiles towards himself and begins to kiss him with such a fever that immediately catches Stiles too. His mouth is so wet, so hot, and to Stiles’ shock his hands already are on Stiles’ body. He moves so quickly, with intent, like he is afraid that if he pauses for a moment Stiles can change his mind. He dominates Stiles with burning touches, bringing him close, spreading Stiles’ legs on his sides, and in a matter of seconds manages to take Stiles in his lap entirely. He is palming Stiles legs, pulling Stiles’ collar with mindless fingers, his hands assault Stiles like he wants to strip him so bad, but not so sure of their welcome. It is a kiss better than sex, better than everything; Stiles can’t even imagine how sex will be with him? Derek’s hands desperately hold Stiles, not letting him move away and Stiles knows why, he is sitting on Derek’s hard cock, and Derek is so close, he is breathing so hard. Stiles raises his hips slowly dragging his ass over Derek’s cock. The whole act is obviously a taboo and they both know it, they are both shaky with it. They look at each other and Derek holds his hips, raising it slowly, commanding Stiles’ body, and Stiles just gives himself to Derek. Derek doesn’t even move his body, just uses Stiles’ to bring himself off; one hand in Stiles’ waist, one hand is at his hip, raises and lowers him down on his cock, and comes in his boxers with a grunt, it is so manly Stiles almost laughs, but instead he buries his face to Derek’s neck.

-We have to clean you and make you at home in time, or at least not suspiciously late. 

-When? Derek asks with a wrecked voice, it is so intimate, so private Stiles’ gets even harder with it.

-Tonight.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it.

**Author's Note:**

> Mistakes, mistakes, I know they are there, cackling wildly. Please, if you catch them, you know what to do. Thank you!


End file.
